Electric Skies
by Warpath Grizzly
Summary: In the world of the future, the liveship Caribou sails through the skies with the purpose of fulfilling its noble mission of safely and quickly delivering much needed cargo. Its crew know only this simple, humble life, but something sinister looms on the horizon. Crew of the Caribou, meet Feliciano Vargas, your newest mechanic. Warning: mild genderbending and pirate cussing.


**Electric Skies**

Log 1

Despite the event that had just unfolded, the docks surrounding Feliciano Vargas continued to rumble with the sounds of people busily going about their business, as it had before he'd even set foot on the perimeter. Tiptoeing his way through the crowd, he'd tried desperately to keep his heavy, tool filled bag from accidentally swinging into the heads of passersby. He was without much luck, as it were. The clumsy Italian hadn't accounted for the fact that perhaps it was not the best idea to keep such a heavy pack slung over his shoulder in such a fashion that it stuck up at the perfect head bashing height. That's how he ended up being chased by a very pissed off German with blue eyes of cold fire, bright blond and perfect smoothed back hair tinged red thanks to the unfortunate collision. Feli had only just gotten away from him by leaping over a low wall of cargo, and hiding inside a, thankfully, empty tomato crate.

Peeking out from under the wooden lid and spotting no sign of his pursuer, Feli sighed in relief. The people of this region were so brutish!

Climbing carefully out of the crate, Feli turned his head this way and that as he walked, steel-toed boots thudding against the metal boards of the dock. He didn't know if the German was still following him, and unfortunately he wouldn't be able to hear the man approach what with the noise of the crowd, the whirring of machinery moving cargo, and above that the humming of the liveships that waited patiently for their pilots to set them on course. Of course, that sound, similar to the thumping of a huge engine but much, much more _alive_, was a welcome one to Feli's ears. It was the sound he strove for when dealing with the great beasts. As a mechanic, or, as they preferred to be called, a surgeon, Feliciano loved it when a liveship hummed. It was a sign of good health, that the vessel was in tip top shape. It was his job to turn the groaning, like metal tearing, indicating the pain or sickness that the ship felt, into a hum.

Or, at least, it would be his job, as soon as he found a certain Mr. Beilschmidt. Glancing again at the paper he'd torn off of the Employment Agency's Looking to Hire cork board, he checked for the thirty sixth time that day that he was indeed supposed to meet Mr. Beilschmidt at Pier 41, 10am sharp. The paper also included other details, key among them the name of the ship: Caribou. A name he hadn't heard before, a name not made famous. It was perfect for Feli.

Locating Pier 41, the brown haired man walked down the dock, checking the sides of every ship: Lady Jane, Valiant, and Wicker Man, which let out a whistle of steam as though the ship was impatient to get out of the noisy port. He passed all these without sparing a glance back. It was then that he came upon the large, C-class liveship Caribou.

He wasn't really all that impressed by the cargo ship, but the young man that had sauntered up beside him seemed to think so.

"She's nice, eh?" The violet eyed newcomer asked, puffing up his chest and looking proudly up at the ship. He had a light accent that Feli couldn't quite trace, one that suggested he wasn't from the USE at least.

"Your ship looks like she's been painted in poo," Feli deadpanned, noting the unfortunate colour of the hull: a strange, slightly silvery darkish brown. The deformed shape and position of the wings made it look as though it sported antlers, and its sides were just a bit too wide. To Feli, this did not help the ship's overall look in the least.

In response, the violet eyed blond simply frowned, and muttered, "Well, I think she's nice..."

A few long and awkward seconds drew themselves out between the two before a thought occurred to Feli. Turning to the young man beside him, he grinned and asked excitedly, "Are you Mr. Beilschmidt?"

The blond shook his head. "No, why?"

"I'm supposed to meet him here for a new job," the brunet answered, slightly disappointed, and yet also weirdly relieved, that the blond wasn't his future employer. He really needed a job soon.

"I don't think he'll be too pleased with you," the other man noted. Feli furrowed his brow.

"How do you know?"

"Just a feeling," the blond said, looking over the mechanic's shoulder and backing away slightly. Feli spun around only to find those fiery blue eyes from earlier boring down on him with all the ferocity of the sun bearing down on a dying animal in the desert.

"You!" the German spluttered in rage. The side of his head was a tad bit bloodier now. He clearly hadn't done anything to fix that.

"...You smell like bad sausage," Feli stated offhandedly, making a vein in the German's temple throb. The stain in his hair looked a little fresher.

"You must learn to be more careful!" the larger man yelled at him, towering over the shorter brunet, but making no motion to suggest physical violence. Really, all he wanted to do was _scold_ Feli?

"Um, sure." More angry glaring. "Err, yes, sir?"

"Good." The blue eyed man then proceeded to straighten his back, and smooth back his once perfect hair, becoming as calm as a lake setting on a delightful summer's day. He also promptly attempted to ignore Feli's presence, perhaps for his own safety this was not the best of ideas. "My apologies for the lateness, Matthew. Has anyone stopped by asking about the position?"

"Just one, Mr. Beilschmidt," the blond responded, pointing to the brunet. The German looked again to the surgeon, who tried his best to smile charmingly. The tall man merely blinked and looked back to his co-worker.

"Anyone else?"

"Nope."

A sigh. "Let me see your qualifications." A hand was placed before Feli, and he dutifully handed over his papers. Minutes passed as the German scanned through the sheets, checking to make sure Feli was even allowed and able to work this job. Satisfied with what the official documents said, he handed them briskly back to the brunet. "Feliciano Vargas. You're qualified, but still..." He looked Feliciano up and down, not quite pleased with what he saw. Despite his too large work boots, worn black jeans, and grubby tool bag, he wore a spotless blue silk shirt and black tie beneath black jean suspenders. He also sported a dopey smile.

Unfortunately, a light tap on his shoulder interrupted his observations. "Ludwig, we can't afford _not_ to hire him. You've been a man down for two weeks already. Besides, Captain said-"

"I remember what the captain said, thank you very much, Matthew. It's just that..." he paused to glare at Feli again. "I don't trust him."

"Well, I do," the blond proclaimed a little boldly, coming to stand beside the brunet. "He checks out, no criminal record, and I like his sense of style. So...there." The German took in both of them, red hoodied blond and blue shirted brunet, and made his displeasure known. Nonetheless, he rolled his eyes and pulled out some papers from his pocket.

"Here. Pack your stuff and get these signed up with the Employment Agency. We leave at noon." With that, he turned on his heels and started for the ship. The violet eyed blond, Matthew, smiled cheerfully.

"See ya soon, Feliciano!" he called, running to catch up with his co-worker who'd already reached the ramp by then. Feli waved back, but when the young man turned around fully, he was able to spot those lumps that jutted out of his spine underneath that hoodie. They were the plugs of a pilot, _the_ pilot of the ship he'd just been hired on. The ship he'd called ugly in front of the man to whom it mattered most.

Damn, he wasn't good at making friends on the first day.


End file.
